TRIP TO HISTORIC BATH POEM 28

The weather was heavy today with a deep grey sky. Ominous it was and I was pleased not to have any great travels to complete. The concept of omen is a strong one, but we hope for the best nevertheless, even when the skies are grey.

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“Now days are dragon-ridden, the nightmare, Rides upon sleep: a drunken soldiery, Can leave the mother, murdered at her door, To crawl in her own blood, and go scott-free; The night can sweat with terror as before, We pieced our thoughts into philosophy, And planned to bring the world under rule, Who are but weasels fighting in a hole.” W. B. Yeats

Shield

You are my shield I hide behind your strength,

A tower-shaped board built for war,

Consistent in your shape metal guided by

Heat from fired brought up for your victory.

I do not fear for life is not a forced battle,

Or a waged war requiring the fierce face

Of tactic and the broad justice of the sword,

But meanders us along to our place forsworn.

There is no power I fear for you take me,

And place me in a house of shelter to wait,

And by my side wage your war with no real

Consolation but with the savage wrath of the right.

So here in comfort I lie waiting for you,

My hearts still aflutter for your kiss,

A seal of sentiment long bonded by law,

But fresh to my heart as if it were still a distant dream.

“Power is not revealed by striking hard or often, but by striking true.” Honoré de Balzac